


(They Say That) The Loveliest Angels Make the Cruelest Demons

by GeoffsEightGreatestMistakes



Series: The Loveliest Angels Make the Cruelest Demons [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Blood, Fake AH Crew, Falling In Love, Female Jack, GTA AU, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Slow Build, and are more graphic like maaaybe twice., and these tags aren't that bad i swear, blood/torture/injury are only referenced about a handful of times, like extremely slow build im completely serious, mentions of injury, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5980002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeoffsEightGreatestMistakes/pseuds/GeoffsEightGreatestMistakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It helps that Trevor has the world’s greatest mask; an <i>innocent face</i>.<br/>His natural, child-like bubbly, innocently-curious, and just naturally happy personality makes him appear like the last person to be one of Los Santos’ deadliest men, including the Fake AH Crew.<br/>He’s deadly, powerful, and above all else, hidden in plain sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act One Scene One

**Author's Note:**

> I planned on this being a lot shorter. Oops. It’s over 25 pages on a google doc. Also I split this up like you would for a play because I’m such a big theater nerd, and I'm in a theater class where I basically dissect a play and design a set for it... and working on a musical... So yeah. I'm around this a lot and it's a bad influence. (expect some high school theater stuff soon. I'm serious.)

In just about every way, Trevor Collins has a stomach made of iron. 

He’s seen enough blood and enough gore to last many lifetimes, and he’s grown immune to the copper smell blood and the nauseating reek of death. Sure, he wasn’t all that bothered by it from the start, but years of this has only made his immunity stronger.

Trevor’s built up his immunity in ways that most people call psychotic; he calls it ‘a way to pay the bills’, ‘a typical saturday night’, ‘a way to release anger (and/or stress)’, and many other things. But long story short, he’s basically a professional torturer and a one-man clean up crew.

He never really stays in one place; bouncing from crew to crew, city to city, state to state. The longest he’s ever stayed in one spot was for eight years, but that was when he was only a little child… So that doesn’t really count.

But in those crews, he does the dirty work that makes everybody else squeamish. He systematically takes somebody apart with the worst pain they’ve ever felt, and then after their unfortunate victim has passed on, he cleans up his mess and promptly leaves after being paid.

Trevor has built up a name, most commonly called ‘Satan’s Child’, which in his opinion is a horrendously cliche name. He finds the name terrible and stupid, but he deals with it anyway because at the end of the day, it makes people scared of him. With people being scared of him, it’s easier to not be disturbed while working or having to deal with shitty people and poor pay. He gets paid quite well for his work, after all.

It also helps that he has the world’s greatest mask;  _ an innocent face _ .

His natural, child-like bubbly, innocently-curious, and just naturally happy personality makes him appear like the last person to be one of Los Santos’ deadliest men,  _ including _ the Fake AH Crew.

He’s deadly, powerful, and above all else, hidden in plain sight. 

 

___________________

 

Trevor has a message waiting for him on his burner phone when he gets home from a clean-up job well after midnight. 

It's nearing three in the morning, Trevor has got blood crusted under his fingernails and splashed and smeared on various parts of his body. He really wants to take a shower so he can go to bed. He takes one glance at his burner phone sitting on the coffee table before he shakes his head and goes for a shower.

He’s too tired for this- he thinks. It’s too late to discuss a job- he thinks. 

So he ignores it and goes to scrub his skin raw and shampoo his hair two or three times. Even though he’s nowhere near squeamish, he doesn't want blood on his bed sheets. 

 

There's another message waiting for him when he pulls himself out of bed a few hours later, groggy and hungry.

At first, he ignores the burner phone in general; grabbing a bowl of cereal from the kitchen and leaning against the kitchen counter to eat his cereal, without the milk. He hasn't had time to go grocery shopping lately, he ran out of milk days ago, and with that message sitting on his phone, he probably won't have time for another few days.

And that's when he remembers the message waiting for him. When he finishes his cereal, he places the bowl on the haphazard pile of dirty dishes in the sink and heads into the living room to pick up the burner phone and see the messages.

Like most work offers he gets, they're from random numbers and a text with the short jist of what they need from him, an address, and an amount. 

The two messages, this time, are from different numbers, but he’ll easily go with the second offer; it’s a clean-up job in the outskirts of Los Santos, nearly double what the first job is paying him. He sends the number a short reply, saying yes, before he sets the phone back on the table and gets up to go do a load of laundry and get his supplies together so he can do the job the next night. 

 

___________________

 

Trevor shows up at the warehouse the following night, his car’s trunk full of cleaning supplies and various containers of chemicals. 

He steps inside the building, a pair of goggles pushed up on his brow, and his typical surgical mask pushed down around his neck. 

“Hello..?” He calls out as he takes a few steps further into the abandoned looking warehouse. The big room looks clean, in a way. No blood, but it’s dirtied from general age and it fits the whole abandoned vibe. 

Trevor wonders if he's been given the right address. He sets down the bucket he’s carrying; full of different rags and brushes to use. He scans the place and calls out louder this time. 

“You called for a clean up..?” He’s getting a little more confused the longer the silence draws out. He gives it a minute or so before he sighs and picks up the bucket. 

Just as he’s about to walk out, he hears someone speak from somewhere further in the warehouse; more than one voice echoing around the massive room. 

They get louder, and finally Trevor sees two men; a shorter man who is pretty muscular, and a taller, lanky man with bed-head hair. 

“You our clean up guy?” The shorter man calls out as the two strangers walk closer. Trevor nods, meeting the two men halfway.

“Where’s the mess?” He must throw this two men in a loop; if he wasn’t holding yellow, thick plastic gloves and other assorted cleaning gear, he’d look like some random citizen who just walked into the warehouse.

“Back here,” the short man gestures over his shoulder, and the lanky man shivers horribly.

“There’s so much blood!” The lanky man’s British accent doesn’t particularly shock Trevor; he’s worked for so many foreign crew bosses that the accent doesn’t surprise him.

They start to walk back, and the shorter man laughs at his friend.

“Ryan really out-did himself, huh?”

Trevor doesn’t know these guys well enough to understand if the shorter man is serious or just joking. But whatever he meant makes the lanky man shiver again. 

“It’s so gross.”

Well Trevor figures that the more blood there is, the more he’ll probably be paid… Sure, sometimes there are assholes who will give him some hefty task for little pay; but from what he can see about these two, they aren’t the assholes who normally hire him.

And that’s when they reach the mess. It’s in a little side-room in the back of the warehouse; where all of the office-like rooms are. 

The room looks like it’s been set-up as the stereotypical torture room. There’s a big pool of blood in the middle of the room, and there’s also some splattered against the wall. Trevor isn’t sure if it’s real… or if it’s just paint to make the room look more intimidating. But whatever is on the wall looks pretty gross, and there’s something that looks like vomit on the floor too. Overall, it’s just a mess of blood and Trevor realizes that he’s going to need to get all of the rags stashed in the trunk of the car.

He hears a gag behind him, and he realizes that the lanky man is shivering and gagging horribly as his friend laughs softly.

“I’ll be back,” Trevor sets down the bucket next to the door, where the one clean spot in the room is. “I’m just getting some more supplies..”

He’s definitely going to need it.

“Just do whatever you need to,” the shorter man nods. “We’ll be waiting around if you need anything.”

Trevor knows he won’t need any help.

 

The warehouse is starting to smell like bleach by the time he’s done, hours later.

He’s left the two guys behind, packing his things away in the back of the truck. Stuffing the gloves and the full-body apron he wore into a garbage back, and setting all of the chemical bottles back into their place in the organized section of the trunk. 

When he’s done, he sets the cover back on the fake-bottom of the trunk. He’s about to close it when he hears the warehouse door open behind him, and two pairs of footsteps come out.

Expecting to be paid, Trevor turns; one hand on the top of the trunk, ready to close it.

“‘Satan’s Child’, huh?” The shorter man, who had yet to give Trevor his name, raises an eyebrow as him and the lanky man stop a few feet away.

Trevor, who has taken off the doctor’s mask and goggles, now has completely revealed his face. He nods a little, and turns just a little so he can shut the trunk.

“What a misleading name,” the lanky man snorts, and he shifts his weight as he crosses his arms over his chest. He looks like the perfect picture of confidence and cockiness. Trevor holds back a groan and an eye-roll.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I picked the name,” Trevor, luckily, keeps the sass out of his voice. He’s heard some variation of that phrase a million times. It gets very old very fast.

“Mm..” The shorter man hums. “But you did good work, we’ll tell the boss and maybe we’ll hire you again.”

It sounds… slightly ominous. Trevor doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he keeps his face blank. With one hand resting against the now closed trunk, he leans against the car and holds out his hand.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Trevor shrugs a little, face remaining blank and uninterested. “You pay well.”

He curls his fingers up twice, a tell-tale signal of ‘ _ get on with it, just pay me already _ ’. And from somewhere in the depths of the shorter man’s jacket, he pulls out a thick stack of cash, tied down by a rubber-band. It’s set in his palm, and Trevor immediately starts to thumb through it, making sure he’s been fully paid.

The two men watch as Trevor stuffs the cash into the back pocket of his jeans a minute later.

“We’ll be in contact,” the British man promises, and the two men both turn and start to head down the street. Trevor doesn’t watch them go. He simply turns back to his car, and gets in to drive off back to his apartment.

 

___________________

 

A good chunk of the cash from the job goes to the necessities. He pays off the month’s rent on his shitty apartment, and finally makes time to go grocery shopping when he’s given a few days break between jobs. Then, he cleans up his apartment the best he can.

He doesn’t deep-clean, using bleach and some other chemicals, but just picking up the trash laying around, cleaning up the stack of piles in the sink that’s nearing the size of Everest, and doing laundry. Just mere housekeeping for the terrible apartment he has. The place has terrible water pressure, hardly ever gets hot water for longer than 10 minutes at a time, and it’s in a crumbling building in one of the poorest neighborhoods in Los Santos.

But when he first came to the city, it’s all he could afford, and since he plans on being there for maybe two months, he didn’t want to splurge all of his cash on a decent apartment he’d barely live in. So he deals with it.

 

But the week’s lull in jobs comes to an end on Friday night, when the burner phone rings.

He’s sitting on the couch, playing some indie video game on xbox, when it rings. And he immediately pauses the game, confused on why the hell his burner phone was ringing. All jobs he gets are over texts, but never has anybody actually  _ called  _ him.

So he picks up the phone, and recognizes the number after another ring. It’s the number who gave him the last job, the one in that warehouse with those two men. Trevor figures he should pick up.

“Hello?” He sits forward on the couch, setting his controller off to the side. His tone sounds more nervous than he intended it to be.

“Satan’s… Child?” An unfamiliar voice speaks slowly, as if he’s confused by the name.

And Trevor thinks for a second about how dumb the name was- everybody finds the name incredibly dumb. So why does he have it? He’d love to know.

“Yes?” Trevor pushes off the couch, and he starts to walk into the kitchen. “What type of job are you looking for?”

“An offer,” the voice drawls, almost lazily.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” Trevor deadpans, pausing to lean against the counter.

On the other side of the line, the man laughs softly. “Just a few jobs, mostly clean up stuff…” He trails off, and Trevor is well aware that there’s more to this… offer.

“And I’m thinking these are sort of tests. I want to see how well you do.”

“Are you interested in hiring me long term?” Trevor’s had a few of these deals before, and recently he’s been denying them. Too many assholes who have let power go to their head, and too many bad situations. Too many to count.

“To put it simply, yes. Two of my boys have said you’re good at what you do.”

Trevor finally figures out who this guy could be- the boss of those two men from a few days ago. But he doesn’t know how well this sounds, if he should trust this guy.

“Unless you promise me something good, I’m going to decline,” Trevor’s voice remains flat and unwavering; the tone he always uses for business situations. Over the years, he’s thoroughly mastered the art of keeping his voice and face blank as he does business.

“Have you heard of the Fake AH Crew?” The man asks, like he didn’t hear what Trevor just said.

But of  _ course  _ Trevor has heard of the Fake AH Crew. It’s impossible to  _ not  _ hear about them in the crime business. They’re the best of the best, top of the food chain.

And Trevor is now pretty sure that he shouldn’t decline this. There’s the slightest chance that backing away from this won’t do him good. He could be denying some pretty good pay...

(And now it makes sense on why he was paid so well a few days ago… Motivation to say yes. Maybe that was their attempt on making a move for him, and the job was just the first step in this.)

“When’s the first job?” Trevor speaks after a minute of silence from his end. On the other end, the man laughs joyously, a high pitched laugh that’s nearly a cackle. 

“Atta boy!” Whatever professionalism that was in the man’s voice has melted away, and Trevor’s slightly shocked at the change.

“I’ll send you the details later tonight,” the man doesn’t even say goodbye before hanging up; leaving Trevor slightly confused and slightly worried about what he’s just agreed to.

 

 


	2. Act One Scene Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm planning on posting these chapters on Tuesdays and Thursdays for the next three weeks because I'm going to be insanely busy because I'm working crew for my school's musical. (It's so much work and we still have a week of rehearsals left plus the actual show week.)  
> But yeah- I'll post these chapters on a schedule while I'm really busy.

This job is a torture job, and in the message, he was told that weapons would be supplied for him. 

He figures this must be apart of some plan they have to see what he’s capable of. He also finds this a little dumb, because if you just asked anybody in the crime world about ‘Satan’s Child’, you’d get the jist of what Trevor has done. Sure… A few things may not be true, but it’s pretty damn close to the truth.

But redundancy aside, Trevor showed up at a different building this time. Still on the suburban outskirts of the city, Trevor parked his car across the street from a little two-story, semi-modern office building that looked to be empty. He sighs softly, and he gets out of the car. 

Like last time, he thinks that he’s got the address wrong. But he doesn’t- and he realizes that when the office building’s door has been pushed open, and there’s the shorter man from last week standing there, waiting for him.

Trevor’s pace is quick as he crosses the street. The man at the door nods at him as Trevor enters. The door is shut behind him, and he’s silently lead through the hallways of the building, through a door that leads into a stairwell, and then lead one floor down; into the basement.

The basement has a similar layout to the floor above; a block of cubicles filling up the middle of the room while actual offices line the walls. Trevor doesn’t know what to think as he’s led to an office in the back of the room.

The door is pushed open, and it’s obvious that it’s been used before. There’s a ‘mirror’ installed on the left wall, and a metal chair has been bolted to the middle of the room. The walls have a slight off-color, faint pink tint in some places, and Trevor knows that whoever had cleaned up this room last time didn’t do a thorough job.

He glances around the room, and his eyes fall onto the metal chair in the middle of the room; housing a passed out man who definitely fits the criminal stereotype. Greasy hair, unkempt facial hair, and cheaply done tribal tattoos running over his biceps. There’s even a crew symbol thrown in there, right on his right collarbone.

He purses his lips, and glances at the shorter man, who has taken a few steps into the room and is currently staring at the one-way window on the wall.

“So what’s the motivation?” Trevor asks, instantly getting the other man’s attention. “What do I need to get outta this guy?”

“Oh you don’t need to worry about that,” the shorter man shakes his head. “One of our guys will do all the talking.”

Trevor is a little surprised at this. Nobody has ever really wanted to be in the room while he… worked. And the confusion must be evident on his face for once because the other man laughs a little.

“You just need to break this guy,” the man speaks, and as if on cue, someone else appears in the doorway. 

A familiar black mask, one Trevor is familiar with. Not personally, but he’s heard so much about the  _ Vagabond _ . Enough stories to last a lifetime, and he now understands on why someone would be in the room with him. But wait- wasn’t the Vagabond the crew’s main torture guy? Why hire Trevor if the Vagabond was already there to do the job?

The shorter man steps up to the Vagabond, pulling Trevor out of his thoughts. He cracks a smile. “Have fun you two.” 

It’s obviously a joke, said in a teasing tone, but Trevor doesn’t even smile and the Vagabond obviously shows no emotion through the mask.

The man doesn’t look hurt by it though, and he claps a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Remember you’re being watched.”

He glances at the ‘mirror’ out of the corner of his eye, and the Vagabond silently nods. The man then leaves them, shutting the door behind him.

Now left alone with an extremely dangerous man, probably one of the few that are more terrifying than Trevor, Trevor turns to look around the room once again. His eyes immediately find the cliche table of assorted knives and other torture tools. At least they’re spotless and shiny, looking like they’re brand new.

He feels eyes on his back as he immediately goes for a thin, slender knife that looks reminiscent of a steak knife. It looks to be some sort of kitchen knife, what Trevor is mostly used to. He doesn’t often splurge on more…  _ fancy  _ knives.

“How do you feel about a rude awakening?” Trevor speaks out loud, mostly speaking to himself as he comes up to the metal chair, with the passed out criminal.

“Sounds great,” the Vagabond speaks quietly and flatly. Trevor’s busy slipping into his business mode- he doesn’t worry about such a simple thing like hearing the Vagabond’s voice.

Instead, a sly smile crosses his lips, and he faces the metal chair. Carefully making sure the knife is out of the criminal’s sight, he gives the unknown criminal a sudden, sharp slap to the cheek; effectively waking the man.

 

___________________

 

That night, he goes home with blood-splattered clothes in the trunk of his car, a hefty stack of cash in his back pocket, and a promise to have another job in about a week.

Apparently, whoever was watching through the one-way window was pleased with what he saw. He was promised that ‘the boss’ would be pleased, and Trevor should definitely consider taking their offer. He didn’t respond to that, simply shrugging nonchalantly before taking off.

Now, he stands in the shower, under the lukewarm water, watching as the blood swirled down the drain. He wonders how the hell he got himself into this; having the most powerful crew in the state ‘test him’, and see what he’s really capable of.

For a few minutes- he thinks about how this is weird, because normally, wouldn’t you have a more formal conversation about this? Trevor just got a call late at night, and had a mildly weird conversation with a nameless stranger. Whenever somebody has tried to get him into their crew, it’s a formal meeting about what said crew wants from him, and how long they want him working for them.

He’s well aware that the Fake AH Crew does things a little differently, and their means of getting what they want aren’t always the greatest. Now he’s wondering how much he may regret this.

 

___________________

 

Another lull in jobs hit, but it’s much longer this time; nearly three weeks of no jobs. Nothing from the Fake AH Crew, or anybody else.

In the first week of no jobs, Trevor enjoys the break. He goes grocery shopping once more, and even buys two new video games to fill up the time with the money from that torture job.

In the second week of no jobs, Trevor starts to consider packing up and leaving town; declining the Fake AH Crew’s offer. (He had already stayed there for a few months, nearing the point where Trevor usually moved on to someplace else.)

In the third week, Trevor actually begins the process of leaving.

He talks to his landlord, putting down double his month’s rent as an apology for cancelling his residency at the building. He starts to pack up what few things he owns into one cardboard box, and two duffel bags.

He’s ready to leave town; planning on leaving in no more than two days.

 

On his last night in Los Santos, Trevor goes out to the little bar he goes to every once-and-awhile. The small, hole-in-the-wall bar is hardly ever busy, and nobody ever asks questions. It gives off the vibe of being on the list of the many bars in Los Santos where some crew owns the place. But Trevor doesn’t ask questions if nobody asks him any.

Around midnight, he calls it a day and downs the last of his drink before paying his tab and leaving. He’s hardly even tipsy as he walks home. He’s never really been big on drinking alcohol, but he drinks often enough to not be such a lightweight.

He reaches his apartment building, walking up the dirty stairwell to his third floor apartment. He’s glad that this is his last night in this shithole. The place looks like it’s a few days short of collapsing. 

Even though he knows he won’t buy a better apartment wherever he goes next, he leaves a mental note to never stoop this low and live in a place like this for three months.

He unlocks the door, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights, the place is barren of his personal belongings and other things. He doesn’t need light to fill an empty room where there’s nothing he could possibly trip over. And he planned on crashing on the couch anyway, since he was leaving the old uncomfortable thing behind.

His eyes are adjusting to the darkness of the apartment, which is somehow incredibly dark despite the light of the city filtering in through the dusty, grimy window and thin curtains that hardly do anything to block out the light.

Trevor stumbles a little, dropping his jacket on the floor next to the couch and he’s about to flop down onto the lumpy couch when he sees something move out of the corner of his eye.

In the light coming in through the window, something silver catches the light and glitters for a few seconds. 

It’s three silver rings; wrapped around pale fingers that were softly drumming against the arm of the chair. The person who belongs to said fingers is sitting in the armchair next to the couch; half in the shadows like some cliche villain in some crappy crime movie.

But Trevor freezes for a few seconds, trying to think of who would A) know where he lived, and B) want to break into his apartment.

“Thinking about moving away, huh?”

Trevor knows that voice- it’s the voice of the man who called him a few weeks back; the one who offered him the Fake AH Crew job.

Not really knowing what to say, Trevor slowly nods. These Fake AH guys keep doing things Trevor doesn’t expect, like calling him to offer a job, or  _ breaking into his damn apartment _ .

The man laughs a little. “You’re quite easy to find actually… For such a popular criminal you’d think you’d hide yourself better.”

Trevor really doesn’t know what to say now, so he keeps his damn mouth shut and looks at the stranger with wide eyes. He must look like an idiot, he thinks.

But the stranger ignores his confusion, and pushes himself up and off the chair, so he can stand in front of Trevor in the dark living room. They meet eye to eye, and Trevor swallows thickly as he tries to see what the man looks like. All he gets his pale skin, dark scruff running along his jaw and equally dark, messy bed-head hair.

“Want to explain why?” The man speaks with an expectant tone, and Trevor has to hold back a sassy remark on how he was told he’d be getting a job nearly two weeks ago.

“Business was slowing, and I prefer to not stick around too long,” Trevor’s voice isn’t as calm and flat as he wants it to be. His voice wavers a little; it’s probably the alcohol that’s messing with him, or maybe the shock of finding a stranger in his apartment.

“Mm..” The stranger slowly nods. “Well..”

He trails off, like he’s thinking about something long and hard. For once, Trevor is actually nervous when talking to a potential client. 

This is a first, one of many ‘firsts’ he’s had with the Fake AH.

“I’m offering you a position on our secondary team, the B-Team,” the man speaks after a long minute of silence between them. “We need some help, and you are the best there is.”

It’s Trevor’s turn to think now, and he slowly nods.

“Okay.” He exhales. “Are you seeing this as permanent?”

Despite his worry, confusion, and other emotions, his voice remains professional and pretty level.

“Yes.” The man speaks firmly. 

“Okay… I.. Uh..” He glances around his apartment. “Give me a few days, and then I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

In the dark, he can’t see the man’s eyebrow quirk upwards. “That’s fine, we get that you’ll need somewhere better than this place.”

A joking lilt slips into the man’s tone, and Trevor nods a little.

“Yeah.. Better than this shithole,” he awkwardly jokes back, not really sure on what the hell is going on. For the first time in forever, he’s actually going to stay in a city for longer than three months. And he doesn’t know if that thought should be good, or absolutely terrifying.

He figures that he’ll think about it later. He’ll cross the bridge when he gets there.

The man doesn’t seem to see Trevor’s growing anxiety in the dark of the apartment, but he holds out his hand.

Trevor is a little shocked by the movement, but he takes the man’s hand. It’s a firm shake, and Trevor tries to read the man’s face in the dark. But the low lighting gives him no clues.

“Welcome to the Fake AH Crew Trevor. You can call me Geoff.”

He ignores the fact that this man knows his first name, he just nods and lets go of the man’s hand. He doesn’t quite yet understand what the fuck is going on. 

But he’s given an address from Geoff, and told to go there when he’s settled in a decent apartment and ready.

Trevor shakily nods, promising that he’ll be ready by the end of the week.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey you should totally check out my [tumblr](http://geoffs-8-greatest-mistakes.tumblr.com/) because I'm actually getting some asks! It's beautiful and there's some drabbles there that won't be making it to AO3!


	3. Act Two Scene One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates on Tuesdays and Thursdays... I lied. oops.
> 
> But just to note since it's not really explicitly said in this story; Geoff first bought the top two floors of the building when the crew first started to gain popularity. But when he got more and more powerful, he bought out the rest of the floors and converted them into the crew's main base. And even though they could totally afford living in an actual penthouse, he was too lazy to move and decided to just hire some people to come and remodel the top floor into a penthouse suited for the whole crew to live in. (But Geoff is the only one who actually lives there permanently, everybody else has their own apartments but also rooms in the penthouse just in case.

The new apartment is nicer. The neighborhood is closer to the heart of the city, closer to the base, it’s got consistent running water, consistent _hot_ water, and the building was built somewhere in the past ten years. And it’s got more than one bedroom. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, and an open living room with the kitchen on the other end, only separated by an island. It’s a nice apartment, and sure, the price is a little steep, but it’s better than the last place Trevor had.

When Trevor sets his few possessions down in the middle of the empty apartment, he realizes he’s going to need to take a trip to the furniture store. While the place is nice, it’s not furnished at all. At least he was prepared; a sleeping bag stashed in the false-trunk of his car just in case.

So he sighs, keeping his stuff in one of the bedrooms that’s in a little hallway off of the living room. For now, he’ll make do with sleeping on the floor and changing with clothes out of a duffel bag.

 

He shows up to the address on Thursday, only four days later. He figured he’d come in, grab a job, and use the money to pay for some furniture since the apartment had drained a fair amount of his cash.

And for the third time, he feels like he’s shown up to the wrong address. He’s in one of the busiest parts of town, parked in front of an eleven or twelve story office building that’s crammed between two skyscrapers. The sleek, all black and tinted-window building looks out of place with the two skyscrapers belonging to multi-million dollar companies on each side.

But he’s starting to get used to this feeling, so he parks his car and gets out. He walks up to this building, glancing down at the little card he was given by Geoff a few days ago.

It’s the size of a business card, all black, with a lime green rubber ducky printed on it in the way that makes it look like it was spray-painted on. He knows that’s the Fake AH Crew’s symbol, and he flips the card over in his hands once more; looking at the address scribbled on in pencil, in just barely legible scrawl.

Swallowing nervously, he tries to open the glass front door to the building. But it’s locked, and he glances around quickly to see a door-bell of sorts on the side. It looks weirdly out of place, a black button hidden on a panel that if you just glanced at the door, you wouldn’t realize was there.

Not knowing what else to do, he hits the button and silently waits for something to happen.

He hears some noise come from inside, and then the door is being pushed open. He’s met with the short man again.

“Trevor, right?” The short man smiles, and Trevor wants to groan. Geoff does not only know his first name, _he’s told everybody in this fucking crew_.

“Yeah..” He nods a little, sighing. This time, he doesn’t really keep the business-like, empty tone.

“Awesome,” the man gestures for Trevor to enter. “You’re a little earlier than Geoff expected.”

“Uh.. Yeah,” Trevor repeats himself. He feels that it’s a little too early to complain about not having enough money to properly furnish his new apartment. He doesn’t even know this guy’s name, he shouldn’t be complaining about having to get a new apartment and needing to furnish it.

The guy is just all smiles though, and he leads Trevor across the lobby of the building, and to an elevator at the opposite wall. He hits a button, and the doors slide right open.

(He also figures it’s too early to complain about how lucky they are- one more day and he would’ve been gone.)

When they step in, Trevor can’t help but look at himself in the mirror covering the back wall of the elevator. He looks pretty shitty, wearing ratty, bleach-stained jeans, an old t-shirt, and a black zip-up jacket that’s so worn it looks more dark grey than black. He also has slight circles under his eyes from hardly sleeping these last two days.

His first impression won’t be so good, he thinks as they ride up to the top floor. When the doors open, it opens up to what looks like a penthouse apartment, except for it’s been built on the twelfth floor. It’s big, spacious, and extravagant. It looks like it’s meant to house many people, the hallway leading off from the elevator doors has at least eight doors in it.

But the short man keeps walking, out into a spacious, open living room that has a kitchen just as modern tucked off to the side. One wall of the living room is completely made of glass, and the view probably would’ve looked more incredible if the building was taller.

“Our guest is here!” The shorter man calls out,  and Trevor watches as two people poke out from the kitchen. The lanky man, and another guy who has messy, curly brown hair with a hint of red.

“Lil’ J!” Another voice calls out from the kitchen, and Trevor immediately traces the name to Geoff. The man, or _Lil’ J_ , leads Trevor to the kitchen, where he’s met with five men sitting around the island in the middle of the kitchen, which must be as big at Trevor’s kitchen and living room combined.

The only person he recognizes is Geoff, who is standing at the end of the island with a massive grin on his face. Nobody else looks familiar.

There’s a woman with bright ginger hair standing next to Geoff with an apron tied around her torso. There’s man with his long blonde hair tied back standing next to the lanky man from before. Than there’s the man with the curly hair, who is standing on Geoff’s other side. None of them look familiar, and Trevor nervously looks at all of them.

He must look incredibly awkward because Geoff laughs and waves Trevor over.

“This is the guy I was talking about,” Geoff talks to all of them, and the man with curly hair scoffs as he runs his eyes over Trevor.

“You sure?” He speaks in that way, a disbelieving tone that Trevor’s heard a thousand times.

“It’s because I look innocent, huh?” Trevor speaks up, and he steps up to the island awkwardly. Crossing his arms over his chest, he shifts his weight onto his other foot. “Whatever you tell me, I’ve heard a thousand times.”

It’s jokingly sassy, and it makes all of them laugh. A flash of pride flares up in Trevor, and he even smiles a little. He’s trying his best to fit in; easily reading the playful, light mood of the room and trying his best to fit into it. It’s just a perk of the job, being able to easily fit in with situations.

“New hire’s a little salty Geoff,” the shorter man jokes, and Geoff laughs happily and loudly.

“He’s going to fit right in.” Geoff promises, and for right now, Trevor doesn’t know what that means.

 

___________________

 

Trevor is soon given a name, ‘Treyco’, and soon given a little space in the crew. He’s technically a part of their secondary team, which they’ve dubbed ‘The B-Team’, but he spends a fair amount of time in the top floor of the building, in the penthouse where most of the crew spends their time, even though Geoff is the only one who technically lives there.

He’s also quickly introduced to everybody. The woman was Jack, who is an expert at anything that flies, and she’s their sort of ‘mother’. The man who had his hair tied back is Ryan, who is actually the Vagabond from the second job Trevor had from them. The curly haired man is Michael, their demolitions expert who has a fiery temper but is rarely ever _truly_ angry. The lanky man is Gavin, who is their sly con-man and can smooth-talk anybody. The shorter man is Jeremy, their newest hire who is talented with anything that can shoot.

And he was introduced to the B-Team. Caleb, one of the handfuls of normal civilians the crew has on their payroll, but he’s a doctor at one of the local hospitals. Matt, who is in charge of their cars and vehicles, and has an extremely unhealthy diet. Kdin, who can be fairly snarky when he wants, but he deals with all things technical and hacking based problems. Lindsay, who sometimes comes onto the field, but usually deals with keeping the crew’s drug rings and smaller crews who work beneath them in line. The last is Steffi, who rarely appears in the penthouse and is sort of like a secretary; she sets up the meetings and gets messages through to the crew.

At first, Trevor is a little overwhelmed with all of the sudden information and names he needs to remember. He’s overwhelmed by the change, and how personal this all feels. In every other crew, he’s just been their for work and that’s it. But the guys ask him to go out with them for drinks weekly, and hang out between jobs.

It feels like he’s becoming attached to these people, and it’s a scary thought after his first week with the Fake AH Crew.

He’s only taken two jobs, and the money he’s been given for his work is enough to furnish the bare necessities of his apartment. For the past week, he’s been silently scraping by with eating at the base, and sleeping on the floor of his apartment.

So he makes a day out of it, telling Geoff that he won’t be in on Monday, and planning on going out to a store.

In the end, he’s got furniture that will come in in two days, and by the middle of the week, he’s got a liveable apartment.

 

It’s the day after his apartment is furnished that he gets his first big job. The first two official jobs were just simple clean ups, scrubbing up the mess that Ryan had left behind. But now it’s a piece in the crew’s plan to take down a few corrupt politicians.

His role in their carefully constructed plan was to have to deal with one of the politicians they were kidnapping. Three would be taken, and one would be given to him to get information out of.

Before this, it’d just been petty criminals and crew members he’d been dealing with. But this was a _politician_. A household name. The type of person would be looked for when taken. This put a lot of pressure on Trevor, and Trevor remained oddly calm until the minute he was standing in front of the politician, who was hardly awake with a bag tied over his head and a gag stuffed into his mouth.

It was Mark Nutt, high in the ranks of Los Santos’ mayoral offices. He was running for mayor next, and he had his hands in too many pies of the criminal world of Los Santos. Geoff wasn’t pleased how he was now making goes at the Fake AH through other crews, and ordered for this plan to be set in motion.

And Trevor was trying to swallow down his panic. He had never been _panicked_ to do a job before, and now here he is, staring at this man and trying to figure out what to do.

He’s alone this time, but he knows that somebody is hiding behind the one-way mirror on the wall. But he’s all alone in the room, and it’s him who needs to do all the talking this time. Everything is on him.

Swallowing down his anxiety, he rolls both his shoulders and his head in a few circles; clenching his fists once, twice, then relaxing. He’s pushing himself into the business mindset he’s created over the years. Blank faces, empty eyes, level voices.

When the knot in his stomach loosens up, and he can swallow again, he pulls the bag off Nutt’s head.

The man is dazed at the sudden brightness. The drugs that knocked him out are almost worn off, but his mind is just a little clouded still.

“What’s going on..?” Nutt speaks slowly, looking around the room with a dazed look. “Where am I?”

It’s cliche, bullshit questions Trevor doesn’t want to answer, so he promptly ignores the man’s questions.

“We’ve been noticing that you’re toeing the line of Fake AH borders,” Trevor even dips his tone down, more menacing, to make the man afraid of him. “The boss isn’t pleased with that.”

Trevor can see the realization come into this man’s eyes. Realization is soon replaced with fear, and Trevor feels pride swell and warm his heart as he watches the man start to panic and become afraid. The power that he now feels is amazing, and Trevor lets a sly smirk spread across his lips.

“Ramsey doesn’t like men taking his land, and he _especially_ doesn’t like men who think they can do it just because they have power.” In the middle of his sentence, he turns and steps up to the table pushed up against the corner of the room. Nutt watches him with immense fear in his eyes, and Trevor makes a show out of picking up a knife. Like his first torture job, he went for a more slender knife.

“You think you can just take our land because the people _like_ you?” Trevor prompts Nutt, expecting an answer as he turns and holds up the knife, as if he’s inspecting the cleanliness of the blade. He angles it so it catches the light and shines towards Nutt’s face. It’s a useless action to him, but it makes Nutt look almost frozen with fear.

He’s mastered how to quickly find somebody’s weakness and use it against them.

When Nutt doesn’t answer, Trevor purses his lips and he fully turns around and lowers the knife.

“You know, this is where you answer me,” Trevor comes back up the chair, and he runs his thumb over the flat of the blade; keeping up the facade of cleaning it off. “And giving answers will keep you relatively safe.”

Nutt lets out a shaky breath, and he doesn’t look like a powerful politician. He looks like a scared child who is playing dress-up in their father’s business suit. It’s incredibly pathetic, and Trevor wishes he could take a photo it and plaster it all over Los Santos to show just how weak their powerful figures are. The anxiousness he was feeling just minutes ago is now replaced with power, and it shows in his eyes. There’s a fire starting to grow in his eyes.

“So, are you going to tell me? You’ll get out of here faster.” Trevor starts to raise the knife, and he watches Nutt’s eyes follow the blade.

He doesn't expect Nutt to last long.

 

Nutt keeps his resolves up for maybe 50 minutes before he begins to crack. He’s done 30 minutes later. This takes the cake on the shortest job ever, and it’s not even two hours later before Nutt has been dropped off in front of his mansion in the rich suburbs of Los Santos, and Trevor has moved up to the bathroom in the penthouse to clean the blood off of him.

It’s stuck under his nails, and he has to really scrub to try and get it out. Next, he moves on to grabbing a washcloth and scrubbing down his face. While there’s only one streak of blood on his cheek, he just feels gross and terrible as the whole ‘business’ mindset slips away and he’s left feeling more… human.

His stomach twists into a knot as he thinks about what he’s just done to one of the most powerful politicians in the state. He’s really thinking about what he’s done, as he dips the washcloth under the warm water, and looks up at himself in the mirror. His dark brown eyes look almost soulless, and he sighs a little as he starts to wipe the blood off his cheek.

But he’s interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Trevor speaks softly, glancing at the door through the mirror. He sees it slowly open, and there are the familiar blue eyes of his boss.

“How you doing?” Geoff asks softly as he stands in the doorway, half in the bathroom and half out.

“Coming back down to earth,” Trevor murmurs. He lowers the washcloth, standing up straighter and locking his eyes with Geoff’s through the mirror.

Geoff slowly nods, and he slips fully into the bathroom and nudges the door closed so it’s only open just a crack. Both of them don’t say anything as Geoff stands next to Trevor and watches the younger man wipe down his face.

After a few minutes of silence, Geoff runs a hand over the scruff on his jaw. “You did good Trevor.”

Trevor pauses, and he looks over at Geoff. His boss’ voice is soft and serious, and a little bit sincere. He’s not joking around.

“It’s a little terrifying to watch you work,” Geoff trails off, and he doesn’t meet Trevor’s eyes. Instead, he stares at the stained washcloth that’s in Trevor’s hands.

“You’ve got such an innocent face. I know you’ve heard that before… But.. It’s just scary. You completely change and now I guess I see how you got your name.”

Trevor is oddly taken aback by this. Every other time he’s heard this, whoever is saying it sounds terrified… But Geoff sounds like a cocktail of things. Drained, sincere, concerned, serious… A mix of things that makes Trevor feel.. weird.

“Thanks… I guess,” Trevor whispers, and their eyes finally meet when Geoff looks up. Both of them exhale at the same time, and Trevor nods a little. “It.. uh.. it means a lot Geoff.”

He’s still getting used to this. The whole close, family-type relationship these guys have going on. When not in business mode, they act like a bunch of friends, and they’re close like family. They care about each other, making sure they’re all okay, despite acting like assholes towards each other. They all love each other.

And he knows that Geoff has known Jack for forever, and Gavin almost as long. But Michael joined because of Gavin, and Ryan came in only two years ago. But they act so close, like they’ve not only known each other their entire lives, but like they’re actually tied together by like their _souls_.

It’s the type of dynamic Trevor isn’t used to. He’s used to working alone, not having to deal with anybody else.

He’s still getting used to this dynamic.

“Good, good,” Geoff murmurs as he nods. He sets a hand on Trevor’s shoulder, and Trevor breaks their eye contact to glance down at Geoff’s tattooed hand, with the silver rings on.

“Get cleaned up, okay? Then you should head home.. Get some rest,” Geoff’s voice remains soft as he pats once, twice, then pulls his hand away. “We’ll get you your money tomorrow.”

Trevor nods a little, which makes Geoff nod, then pull away. He doesn’t say goodbye before leaving, and Trevor watches the door close behind his boss.

He pretends not to notice how his heart skipped a beat when Geoff set a hand on his shoulder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what to do by now... Hit me up on [tumblr](http://geoffs-8-greatest-mistakes.tumblr.com/) so we can talk and stuff!


	4. Act Two Scene Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, I figured I should post a chapter before I have to go to run opening night for my school's musical. And I hope you enjoy this, because I'm pretty much going to drop off the radar until Monday. Like for real, it'll be a miracle if I'm able to get on my laptop before Monday.

Things slowly move on, and Trevor starts to fit his way into the crew. He joins the guys out for drinks. He lets Michael and Gavin and Jeremy come over to his apartment for ‘Lads Night’, which consists of drinks and videogames. He hangs out at the base on days he doesn’t have jobs. He starts to open up to them, joking around and telling stories about some of the things he’s done.

He starts to build relationships. Slowly but surely, he reveals more about himself and he feels like he’s really liking this dynamic. He likes how there’s always somebody around to talk to, and he feels like he’s never alone. 

It’s a great feeling, and he doesn’t realize that he spends at least two nights out of the week sleeping in one of the bedrooms in the penthouse instead of going back to his place. This all just seems natural to him now.

 

By his sixth job, it’s pretty clear to Los Santos that Satan’s Child has become the Fake AH’s new hire. People- normal, everyday citizens- start to grow worried with this news. The media has always been printing out the news of Los Santos’ criminals, and while they never know the full story, they are printing out the biggest parts. Trevor has joined with the Fake AH Crew. They know that the combination of two will be powerful, and as Trevor reads the news off his phone, he feels pride flare up in his chest. 

He’s always been a sucker for making people scared of him. He doesn’t realize how amused he looks until he hears Matt speak up from across the kitchen.

“What’s up Treyco?”

They’re in the kitchen, Trevor sitting at the island and Matt half buried in the fridge as he tries to find whatever leftovers he brought today.

Trevor looks up from his voice when he hears Matt talk though, and he shrugs a little; nonchalantly. As if the citizens of Los Santos starting to fear him more is just as casual as talking about the weather.

“The news is spreading that you guys hired me,” Trevor explains simply, looking like the news of terrifying the people of Los Santos hasn’t fazed him. “People are getting scared.”

Matt is silent for a few seconds, looking at Trevor with an indescribable look of confusion. He himself looks ridiculous, standing in the light of the fridge and practically gaping at Trevor.

“You are one scary motherfucker Trevor,” Matt speaks slowly, as if unconvinced as he turns back to the fridge. 

“What? What did I do!” Trevor holds his hands up in a surrendering position for a few seconds. He looks far from one of Los Santos’ most feared men. He looks like some fresh-faced, just-out-of-college kid who has yet to learn what the real world is like, especially Los Santos’ real world. Los Santos is really far from the glamour and glory that the media makes it look like. It’s much worse.

But Matt only shakes his head. He keeps his back to Trevor, so his expression can’t be read.

“You just are Trevor…”

Not particularly knowing how to respond to that, Trevor lets the conversation die, and he soon gets up to head into the living room.

 

By his tenth job, he faces a little trouble. 

Some days are worse than others. Some days, the guilt and pressure of what he does comes back in and weighs down on him. It clouds his mind, and he gets lost sometimes. Luckily, it only lasts a day, maybe two. Then he’s back.

But this time, it lasts a little longer. It’s different this time around. He’s been in Los Santos for about four months now, and with the sudden, consistent flow of jobs, he’s been finding less time to relax and let his head clear. He’s now pulling somewhere between three and five jobs a week, and the time in between is filled with the crew, or getting basic needs down like food or sleep. He’s left little time to relax, and spend some time alone.

So now here he sits, on the rooftop of the base, leaning up against one of the massive air conditioners. He’s got his eyes closed, head tilted back so it’s just barely resting on the machine behind him. 

The breeze feels good, but it’s cancelled out by the smoggy, slightly rotten smell of Los Santos that comes with it. Even though he’s been here for a few months now, it’s still a little hard to get used to the smell. 

Trevor lets out a long breath, and he slowly opens his eyes to look up at the dark indigo sky above him. There’s no stars. They’re all covered up by the light pollution and smog of the city. And it feels weird… Trevor’s used to looking up at the stars while driving in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. He’s used to driving across the country in cross-criss patterns, used to open land and cloudless skies. He’s not used to an empty sky with skyscrapers covering up the view.

Los Santos is a bitch to get used to.

So he lets out another breath. He lets out another one. He keeps taking deep breaths as he slowly scans the sky for any evidence of stars. But his search is fruitless; there’s nothing up there that shows the slightest hint of the stars burning, dying, and being born millions of lightyears away.

He’s interrupted though by footsteps getting louder and louder as whoever it is crosses the roof.

“If you’re looking for stars, you’re not going to find any.”

It’s Geoff, Trevor knows that instantly, and it’s like his boss has read his mind. Trevor glances up at Geoff, their eyes meeting for only a second.

“I know.” Trevor sighs. “I’m just… I’m used to them.”

Geoff groans a little as he sits down next to Trevor. Trevor watches his boss sit down on the grimy roof with him, and he wants to ask why Geoff’s out here. 

But he sort of knows why. Geoff has been there, always, right after Trevor’s done with a job. Geoff comes because he wants to know Trevor is okay. And Trevor likes that. Especially because it’s  _ Geoff _ .

“How are you doing?” Geoff asks after a few minutes of silence between them; only the sounds of traffic below them. 

Trevor looks up, and their eyes meet. This time, the contact stays.

“I.. I… I’m doing good I guess…” 

Geoff doesn’t look like he believes Trevor, and he reaches out to set a hand on Trevor’s knee. The touch makes Trevor freeze for a second, and this time he notices how his heart skips a beat.

“You’re sitting out here while everybody else is downstairs drinking and celebrating.” Geoff speaks softly. 

Downstairs, just one floor below, the guys are celebrating taking down Mark Nutt and the crews he used to take their land. After a few weeks of taking the crews down one by one, they finally got the last one down and like everything they do, it calls for a celebration.

But Trevor isn’t in the mood to celebrate.

“Speak for yourself,” Trevor murmurs. “You’re up here with me instead of being with them…”

Geoff shrugs a little, and he glances up at the sky. “I care about you Trevor… A lot… And I’ve sort of noticed that you’ve been a little spacey lately.”

“Sorry,” is Trevor’s immediate response, and Geoff’s lips purse together for a few seconds in an almost painful way. Trevor feels pinpricks of guilt.

Their eyes break apart, Trevor’s go down to the streets below and Geoff’s goes up to the empty sky. They don’t say anything for a good thirty seconds before Geoff sighs a little and he pulls his hand back.

“It’s the guilt, huh?” Geoff speaks like he’s faced this a million times. The ever-present guilt moving from the back of his mind to the front, and clouding his vision with regret and guilt. 

“Yeah…” Trevor slowly nods, and he slowly closes his eyes. It’s terrible, this feeling. It’s painful, among other things, and he sighs too. “It comes and goes.”

“It always does,” Geoff sounds old and weathered, like he’s lived a thousand years and he’s grown tired and weary. 

They keep falling into silence though, spans of either seconds or minutes where nobody says anything and they just let the distant sounds of the city act as whitenoise.

And in this time, Trevor thinks about how his heart skipped a damn beat. He’s been sort of repressing his thoughts lately, trying to push down the swell of warmth in his chest when he’s around Geoff, and how he feels more relaxed whenever Geoff comes to check up on him after a job. He’s been pushing those feelings down, not wanting to ruin whatever good thing has been going on between him and Geoff all because of some silly feelings that only amount to a simple  _ crush _ .

It’s not like he has the time for crushes anyway. They’ve been too busy, just as a crew. And Trevor never seems to find time to relationships. God knows how long it’s been since he’s even thought about romance, let alone been  _ kissed _ .

“Why’d you decide to hire me?” Trevor asks after minutes of silence.

Geoff seems shocked by the sudden question, and he looks down from the sky with a somewhat shocked look.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean.. Why did you decide you’d need me in the crew? You could hire a whole team of cleaners for less than what you’re paying me… Ryan already does a large chunk of interrogation jobs anyway. You’re sort of… wasting your time here.”

It sounds self-deprecating, and in some cases, it is. All of this change and creation of friendships has started to take down the walls Trevor has made around his emotions. His  _ human  _ emotions. He’s been unconsciously bottling them up for years now, and the corks on those bottles are starting to be popped off. It’s just a part of the job, because you can’t really do what Trevor does if you have guilt and anger and grief blocking what needs to get done.

“Trevor,” Geoff speaks seriously, pulling Trevor out of the depths of his mind and naturally making their eyes meet. 

“You’re so important. Sure, at first I just needed somebody to clean up our messes, but in these past few weeks, I’ve really seen who you are..” He trails off, as if he has something else to say. But when he doesn’t speak after a minute, Trevor assumes Geoff can’t find the courage to speak about whatever is going on inside his head.

“Well if it makes you feel any better Geoff, this is one of the best decisions I’ve made,” Trevor promises, wholeheartedly. And he means it, truly and honestly. A few weeks ago, he was regretting it a little bit, he now loves that he made the decision to say yes a few weeks back.

“You’re one of my best decisions too Trevor.” Geoff cracks a smile, one that barely makes the corners of his lips lift. But it’s the thought that counts, and Trevor mirrors that barely-there smile.

For now, he doesn’t understand how something in Geoff’s heart warms and makes him swell with warmth as he says that. For now, Trevor is unaware.

 

___________________

 

Ever since that conversation on the roof, Geoff has been acting… strange. One minute, he’ll be joking with Trevor and laughing about something stupid, and the next he’ll be pulling away. He’ll be getting up off the couch and heading off into the master bedroom with a haunted look on his face.

Trevor doesn’t ask questions though. He lets Geoff stalk away sometimes, in the middle of conversations. He watches as Jack grows more and more confused each time Geoff leaves, and how the past few times it’s happened she’s followed him and the two of them would be gone for awhile.

And Trevor feels a little guilty, even though he isn’t sure what is causing this to happen. He just feels guilty, and he watches Geoff walk off once more. Jack is done with this. She sets down her tablet on the coffee table and follows after the tattooed man. 

He bites his lip, and he only looks away after Jack has disappeared down the hallway. His stomach clenches and knots up for a few seconds. He swallows, and he now doesn’t know what to do. He’s alone now. 

Michael and Gavin both went back to their apartments, and Jeremy and Ryan were out working together on a job. It was just him now, sitting in the living room and staring off into space pathetically. He looks reminiscent of a lost puppy. Almost on auto-pilot, Trevor pushes himself off the couch and he wobbles down the hall and into the bathroom. 

But before he can make it into the bathroom, he pauses when he sees the door leading to Geoff’s bedroom cracked open. Through such a small crack, he can just barely hear Jack’s soft voice in that tone she uses when she’s incredibly concerned and/or worried. For a second, he stands there, not really sure on why he’s standing there when he obviously can’t hear their conversation.

Then he softly hears his name, coming from Geoff’s lips behind that damn door. And it’s like something has snapped in him because he turns and steps right into the bathroom and (quite loudly) shuts the door behind him. 

Guilt, regret, and other things cloud his mind and he stumbles in the bathroom. He doesn’t even understand why he’s in there… He just… walked in. And now he stands there, looking at himself through the mirror.

Pale skin, dark eyes, raven colored hair, the ever-present ugly-faded-bruise-colored circles underneath his eyes. He takes in his own features, trying to push down the sudden feeling of remorse flooding over him and he lets out a shaky breath. It feels like it echoes around him.

He clutches at the countertop, knuckles turning white as he grips the edge. He forcefully lets out a slow breath, harshly trying to keep his breathing calm and his mind calm.

Like he always does, he represses the thoughts of guilt, and remorse. He pushes down the feelings that are starting to bubble up. He looks at his eyes through the mirror, and he slowly shakes his head before looking down at the immaculate marble sink below.

He forcibly ignores the feelings. He represses this all. He represses how his mind is pointing out attractive things about Geoff, like the man’s smile or laugh, his crystal blue eyes or his tattoos. He pushes it all down instead, and he sticks with the worst kind of mentality.

_ He doesn’t like me back, don’t waste your time fawning over someone who doesn’t give a shit about you _ .

He knows that’s not true. Geoff has proven it a dozen times about how much Trevor means to him. But that doesn’t seem important to Trevor now.

He’s too used to being alone. He’s used to being guarded by walls he’s built around himself (Sure, he’s getting incredibly used to this crew, but the voice in the back of his head can’t help but tell him about how this will all end soon. Good things never last, the voice yells at him. And he’s listened to that voice for so long, it’s become second nature now to crush these thoughts and push them into the back of his mind.) 

Now these walls are slowly cracking. Bricks keep falling out of place and soon those walls will be unstable. They’re just waiting for an earthquake to destroy them.

But in the meantime, he sticks with that mentality, and when he steps out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Geoff’s door is wide open. Geoff and Jack are long gone.

 

___________________

 

The penthouse feels thick when tension for a few days, and Trevor has an idea of where it came from. Jack and Geoff are having a silent fight, it seems. They keep sharing annoyed looks, staring at each other in ways that speak silent words that only the two of them understand.

It’s hard to be around, and it’s only two days before there’s been an obvious avoidance of the penthouse by all of them. Trevor has an idea of what this is about, but he is still in the dark. Michael and Jeremy have no clue on what’s going on. Ryan and Gavin are acting a little suspicious.

The two of them keep giving each other oddly knowing looks. It’s like they are in on this, and Trevor doesn’t know what to do between those two and the other two, the ones who are silently fighting.

And it lasts for a week. The penthouse is uncomfortable and silent, which never happens. So Trevor is getting worried. But when he arrives one day and Jack seems to be back to her normal self, and Geoff stops looking so damn lost, the tension in his shoulders leaves with a sigh of relief. 

But that doesn’t stop the little thing in the back of his minding pulling a little string and nagging at him. He, in weak attempts to crush these thoughts, tries not to think about how Geoff looks beautiful now that he’s smiling and joking around with him once more.

He loves it now, and he realizes that he’s now royally fucked as he lays in bed one night. He’s back in his apartment, staring up at the ceiling above his bed. His apartment feels too empty for his liking, and he finally gives in.

He’s too used to the penthouse, with the ever-present company and noise. He has now gotten used to not being alone, and he’s afraid that he will never be able to go back to how things were before he was hired.

And that’s how that thought shifts over to Geoff. That man has changed his damn life.

Trevor’s cheeks blush a light pink in the dark of his bedroom. He lets out a shaky breath, and he realizes how royally fucked he is.

He thinks he likes Geoff, and that thought both terrifies him and makes him want to laugh.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his eyes still locked on the ceiling. Geoff has single-handedly taken down the walls he’s built. Brick by brick. The walls are now like a game of Jenga that’s about to end. The structure is still standing, but it sways dangerously; threatening to fall. One small move will push them over and send the tower toppling over. 

Trevor is unknowingly waiting for that move to topple them over, and he stares up at the ceiling, trying to imagine all the possible outcomes. Geoff could like him back, Geoff doesn’t like him back, Geoff could kick him out, Geoff could scream and yell at him, Geoff could.. Geoff could  _ kiss him _ .

Inside him, the walls around his heart sway dangerously.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill... check out my [tumblr](http://geoffs-8-greatest-mistakes.tumblr.com/) so you can send me words of encouragement, stuff for me to write, or you can talk to me about ships! (Or if you're really sweet, you can send me an ask if I fuck up on my editing... because shout out to that anon who sent me an ask about an editing mistake I made on the last chapter.)


	5. Act Three Scene One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I was meant to post this chapter about four days ago. Whoops- I've gotten so much free time this week that the concept of time and writing-responsibilities has left me. I hope that this chapter makes up for my dumb-ness.

The figurative earthquake comes. It comes weeks later, when the tension has completely dissolved and things feel almost normal.

It’s only almost normal. Trevor has been holding in his feelings towards Geoff. Those feelings quickly changed from a simple crush to something more... full-blown. Now that he’s addressed this crush, his mind will blatantly point out things Geoff does or says.

His mind twists Geoff’s little joke about taking Trevor out to dinner into an actual date. Later that night, instead of falling asleep he stares up at the damn ceiling again and thinks about what could actually happen on that date. Would Geoff take him out to some fancy restaurant? Would they do that and show up completely under-dressed but not giving a damn? Or would Geoff take him to a movie? Would they make fun of whatever movie they saw?

These thoughts fill up Trevor’s head. He doesn’t sleep much anymore. He didn’t get a whole bunch of sleep anyway with his messed up work schedule. This is only adding onto that.

And this is how things go for awhile. For weeks on end, Trevor lets this all stew in his head. He’s so used holding all of his emotions in that he doesn’t even know how to talk to Geoff. And he doesn’t particularly  _ want _ to talk to Geoff

Instead, he takes jobs and does what the crew needs him to do. He cuts a few people up. He disposes of bodies. He cleans up the messes he makes. He comes home late at night, immediately going into the shower to scrub off the blood and grime. 

And unconsciously, he starts to pull away.

 

In this job, the penthouse is closer than his apartment. He’s running on maybe an hour of sleep, and that was over 18 hours ago. He’s exhausted, and he’ll crash in whatever bed is closest. So penthouse it is.

He stands in the elevator, leaning heavily against the back wall. He has to fight to keep his eyes open. When the elevator dings softly and the doors slide open, he sluggishly steps out and into the penthouse.

Thank god- it’s dark and quiet. Everybody’s either asleep or in their own apartments. He’ll be able to take a quiet, hot shower to get the blood off his hands and arms. He’ll be able to fix up the cut on his thigh from where the guy tried to fight back.

He lets out a soft sigh, shrugging off his black jacket. That’s when he hears some soft noise coming from the kitchen. It sounds faintly like voices.

Sleepily and curiously, he turns towards the kitchen. With quiet, almost silent footsteps, he heads through the living room and towards the kitchen. The voices are getting louder now. Just before he’s able to look into the kitchen, he identifies Geoff’s voice.

“Isn’t Trevor supposed to be back soon?” Geoff’s voice is quiet. He sounds worried, and Trevor doesn’t know if he should step into the kitchen or not. But when he hear’s Gavin’s familiar, slightly squeaky laugh, he freezes up just a couple of feet from the doorway. Gavin’s in there too- and at this hour, he’d like to not deal with the Brit.

“What?” Geoff’s voice takes on a slightly defensive tone. “He sent me a text an hour ago that he was finishing up… He never takes this long.”

Gavin laughs again. “You’re so in love with him.”

It sounds like a joke, a teasing jab. But Geoff’s silence makes Trevor’s eyebrows furrow as he leans against the wall. He can’t see Geoff’s face go slack and his eyes widen subtly.

“I’m  _ not _ in love with Trevor.” Geoff sounds more defensive now. It sounds like Geoff is lying; badly covering up whatever the truth is. It makes Trevor´s breathing start pick up the pace. He´s utterly exhausted, covered in blood and grime. His arm is steadily bleeding through the strip of washcloth Trevor had tied around it when he got to his car after finishing up the job. He’s a mess, and he’s not awake enough to coherently think about this.

“ _ Sure _ ,” Gavin drawls. “You  _ totally  _ don’t give him heart-eyes all the time, or be the first person to go check up on him after a job to see if he’s okay.”

“It’s because I’m  _ concerned _ !” Geoff exclaims. His voice cracks a little as he stresses the last word. “I’m concerned for my employee.”

“Employee? Geoff- tell that to your lovesick puppy dog look you have 24-7.” Gavin laughs softly. 

“I’m not  _ in love _ .” Geoff insists.

“Then what was that fight with Jack about?” Gavin’s casual tone suddenly turns sharp and accusatory. “Why were you spacing out and suddenly leaving?”

“I…” Geoff trails off. “I… I… I’m not in-.... Okay  _ fine _ , I might have a crush on Trevor.”

There’s silence for a few seconds. There must be some sort of weird look on Gavin’s face, leading Geoff to further explain himself.

“That fight… Jack was telling me I need to talk to him.. But I didn’t really want to?” It comes out like a question, and Trevor holds in his breath so he doesn’t breathe too loudly. He’s terrified of being caught, despite hearing that Geoff’s laboring a crush makes his heart soar. The sort-of question quickly crushes this feeling.

“What do you mean you didn’t want to?” Gavin sounds… confused. “You know that not saying anything is probably going to make it worse.”

Geoff doesn’t say anything.

“I think he’s got something too Geoff… I think he likes you too.”

“What makes you say that?”

Trevor is back to silently, internally panicking. His breathing his picking up the pace and he wants to run. He wants to sprint and leave the penthouse. He wants to leave.

“He’s been giving you the same look… And bloody hell Geoff, when you kept walking off, he looked completely crushed.” 

That’s when Trevor runs. He doesn’t care that his footsteps are loud as he sprints to the elevator. He slams on the button, and the doors slide open smoothly.

He can’t hear Geoff telling Gavin that he might love Trevor. The throbbing beating of his heart in his ears drowns out all sounds.

He doesn’t hear Geoff say he’s going to talk to Trevor. Instead, he hears his own shaky breathing echoing back at him in the small elevator. The drum-like beating of his heart is getting impossibly louder. He rides the elevator down, trying to keep somewhat calm.

But the floodgates are let out the second he gets into his apartment. He takes a long shower that night, sitting in the bottom of the tub and letting the water stream across his back. He sits there until the water goes icy cold. 

He’s stuck in the thought that Geoff has a crush on him. And that Geoff didn’t want to talk to him.

 

Trevor doesn’t come to the penthouse the next day.

He didn’t sleep the night before. He stayed in the shower for a good two hours, until the water had gone cold and his skin was wrinkled up, and when he moved to the bed, he tossed and turned for the remainder of the night.

The swaying walls inside him had finally been knocked down. The remaining bricks had come crashing down. Everything that was locked away behind those walls come pouring out.

It wasn’t just his crush on Geoff that came out. It was the guilt of killing dozens of men, seriously harming dozens more. The rare moments of nausea about his job, about cleaning up the blood of unknown people, picking up their remains and disposing of them by either throwing them in the ocean or burning their bodies. The painful memories of when he was first starting out, taking bad jobs and ending up with broken bones or deep cuts or painful acid burns; all things that left mental and physical scars. The ever-present depression in the back of his mind of how his life had ended up like this.

It all came flooding out, making Trevor’s mind a dangerous cocktail of painful emotions. He doesn’t sleep that night. Instead, he lays there and tries to hold back painful tears. Both the attempt at sleeping and the attempt at holding back tears are unsuccessful. 

 

___________________

 

He stays in bed that entire day. He then remains in bed for most of the next day; only getting up to pee or to nibble on some crackers to get his stomach to stop rumbling. Somewhere around nine at night, he’s woken by a knock on his door.

At first, he ignores it. Trevor rolls over, burying his head in the pillow and pulling the comforter on the bed up to his ears. He doesn’t want to get out of bed. But when the knocking soon turns to pounding, he slowly rises from the bed.

“Trevor?” A familiar voice calls out. It’s Geoff, and Trevor freezes for a few seconds.

“Come on Treyco! I know you’re in there.” 

It’s more demanding, and Trevor easily abandons his bed to go answer the door. He leaves the comforter behind, and he pads barefoot to the door. He doesn’t care that he’s answering the door in his boxers and a too big hoodie. 

When he gets to the door, he finally hesitates. His hand hovers above the doorknob for a second or two. He looks down at his hand, then up at the door. Geoff knocks again, but it’s more like furious pounding. Through the peephole, Trevor sees his boss standing there, looking pretty damn annoyed.

Trevor, nervously and slowly, opens the door. He swallows thickly as he watches Geoff’s annoyance melt into concern. Their eyes meet, and Trevor’s eyes widen.

“Where have you been?” Geoff sounds exasperated. Trevor’s heart throbs in the most painful way.

“Sick…” Trevor lies easily. His voice is blank and emotionless. Geoff has watched Trevor come out of business-mode a dozen times; he can easily tell that Trevor is lying.

“Sick?” Geoff raises an eyebrow. “You look fine.”

It’s obvious that he’s catching on to Trevor’s lie. Trevor lets out a shaky breath, his fingers curling tightly around the doorknob.

“What’s going on Trevor?” Geoff whispers. His voice is too vulnerable, it makes Trevor’s heart throbs. All of the sudden, he feels guilty for disappearing for nearly two days. He feels horribly guilty, and it shows on his face.

And for a minute, their eyes stay connected but nobody says a word. Trevor’s trying to come up with something coherent, and Geoff is waiting for an explanation.

“I-I overheard you,” Trevor blurts out. “I-In the kitchen… with Gavin.”

It’s Geoff’s turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”

“You said you liked me,” Trevor’s voice wavers. “Y-You said you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Geoff’s face flashes multiple emotions. Confusion, regret, and finally, understanding. 

“I didn’t want to mess up whatever we had,” Geoff almost whispers. He awkwardly shifts his weight and clutches at one of his elbows. He looks the complete opposite of what he normally is like; awkward and starting to curl up to make himself appear smaller. He looks… scared.

“And you thought that pulling away would help?” Sadness leaks into Trevor’s voice without him meaning to.

“You were pulling away too,” Geoff’s sudden accusing tone takes Trevor aback. He takes one step back, eyes widening.

They reach a temporary stalemate. It lasts for a minute, before Trevor shakily sighs.

“Geoff, you have to understand that… This is the first time I’ve been close to people…” His voice is barely a whisper. “I… I’ve been holding these types of things in for a long time…”

Geoff slowly nods, and then he breaks the eye contact. He glances down the hall, and bites his lip. “I get that. I do- but can we take a step inside…?”

Trevor remembers that they’re talking through his doorway. Any of his neighbors could step out into the hall and overhear. He shakily nods, stepping back again to let Geoff in. They move into the living room, sitting on the couch side by side. But there’s about a foot of space in between them. It’s an awkward position, making Trevor’s stomach twist up into a knot.

“But I get it,” Geoff whispers after a minute or so of silence. “The whole bottling up thing…”

Trevor looks up from the floor. Geoff’s got his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He looks exhausted all of the sudden; it makes the guilt rise up even further in Trevor’s throat.

“I.. I, uh, I used to have a wife… She was beautiful,” Geoff’s voice is soft, but the apartment is dead silent. He’s easily heard.

“But I lost her, she ran off with another guy. Some normal guy who had a more stable life… One she could trust to not face death every damn day.”

Even though Trevor has never been in a relationship, he feels pinpricks of pain. He could imagine just how much that would hurt. And it made it worse to imagine how heartbroken Geoff was.

“And I guess that’s why I’ve been holding this in,” Geoff shrugs a little. He sits up, eyes shifting towards Trevor. Clear blue eyes meet dark brown eyes once again.

“I’ve been holding it in too,” Trevor exhales slowly. “It’s uh… Part of the job I guess…”

Geoff nods, understanding. You can’t just slaughter people and clean up the mess left behind and feel guilty about doing it. He understands what Trevor does, he’s done it too.

“It took me awhile, to figure out…” Trevor runs a hand through his messy, slightly greasy hair. He hasn’t taken a shower in a day or two, or even brushed it. “I was thinking about all of this that night on the roof..” 

Geoff doesn’t move for a second, but then he’s nodding. He remembers that night too. “I thought about it too.”

“So is that why you were pulling away?” Trevor’s brow creases for a few seconds. “You were thinking about it too?”

Geoff slowly nods. The expression on his face is an uncomfortable mix of regret and guilt. “Yeah.. Jack had to kick my ass in gear about this. Only she really knew about this.”

“You told Gavin that Jack wanted you to talk to me,” Trevor pauses. Geoff runs a hand over the scruffy stubble on his jaw. “Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know what to say Trevor,” Geoff’s voice is soft, serious. He means it, and Trevor’s heart skips a beat without his consent.

“I think this might be more than a crush.” Geoff admits. He shifts, falling further into the couch. He shifts closer to Trevor, slightly leaning in to him. Their thighs are now resting next to each other. The contact is nice and makes Trevor let out a long breath.

“I think so too,” Trevor’s lips barely move. He breaks the eye contact, glancing down at their legs before looking back up at Geoff. In the second he looked away, Geoff has leaned in closer. He has put a hand on Trevor’s upper thigh. It’s all the hints about what’s about to happen.

Without saying anything, the two of them both lean into each other. Trevor’s eyes slide closed easily, Geoff’s too, and their lips meet.

At first, it’s awkward. Their noses bump together, Geoff’s bottom lip is almost at Trevor’s chin. But then Trevor shifts further into Geoff’s side, their lips shifting into place. And for the first time in a long time, Trevor feels at peace. He feels completely peaceful, and like all of the puzzle pieces have fallen into place. 

The picture that has been made is beautiful. Geoff shares his feelings, the kiss they are sharing is warm, and it feels like wherever this relationship heads will be good. Trevor hopes it will be good, because Geoff’s slightly chapped lips feel so damn  _ right _ .

They pull apart a minute later, needing to breathe. Their eyes open slowly, instantly meeting. Trevor’s cheeks are just barely flushed pink, but it’s invisible in the dark of the room. Geoff’s lips quirk up in a lazy smile.

“Well…” Trevor laughs a little. He smiles too, a little one that makes him look adorable in Geoff’s eyes. “How does dinner sound?”

“As in a date?” Geoff’s smile widens. He’s got a joking tone, and it makes Trevor chuckle. 

“Of course as a date,” Trevor leans further into Geoff. Their thighs are now pressed together, along with their hips.

“Mm… Taking charge, I like a man who takes charge,” Geoff’s completely joking. It makes Trevor laugh again, and they lean in for another kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy with how this turned out... and this is like the last real 'plot' chapter. The next one is basically an epilogue.
> 
> And hey- you know what to do! Hit me up on my [tumblr](http://geoffs-8-greatest-mistakes.tumblr.com/) so we can talk about fun things like stuff I need to write, rare-pairs that I ship, and all that fun stuff! (You can totally come talk to me- I'm a little short white girl with big glasses and hardly brushed hair. I'm not intimidating at all!)


	6. Act Three Scene Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a terrible person who forgets her responsibilities. Oh well. I just hope that you like the (not really) dramatic conclusion of this! I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it!

It takes the guys far too long to realize that Geoff and Trevor’s relationship has changed. They all find out one by one, and in various ways.

 

Jack is the first to notice, because she’s so damn perceptive. Immediately, she figures it out when she steps into the kitchen. She can feel it- a change. Geoff’s by the stove, whistling softly and looking awfully cheery for being up before noon. At the table, Trevor’s got a lazy smile on his lips as he does something on his phone, and he’s wearing one of Geoff’s hoodies. It’s like a tell-tale sign, and she purses her lips.

“You two fucked,” she doesn’t even bother to word it nicely. It makes Geoff laugh softly, and color cover Trevor’s cheeks in an unfairly adorable way.

“Thank god,” she sighs dramatically as she plops down into a chair, right next to Trevor. “You two were killing me with the sexual tension.”

Trevor nervously laughs, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. But his raven locks are all over the place; yet another clue of what the two had done the night before.

“So how was he?” Jack jokes, raising her eyebrow. Trevor’s cheeks turn  _ scarlet _ . 

 

Like Jack, Ryan is observant. But it still takes him a handful of days. But by the end of the week, he’s pretty much figured it out.

He could see a dark mark high up on Geoff’s neck, almost hidden in its spot behind his boss’ ear. But it’s there anyway. He also notes how the looks shared between Trevor and Geoff shift over to something more loving. 

He holds it in for a few days though, only asking Trevor about it when they’re setting up one of their numerous torture rooms that are scattered across Los Santos.

“So,” Ryan starts. “You and Geoff…”

In the almost blindingly bright fluorescent light, Trevor’s blush is impossible to hide or ignore. It’s a shy blush, one that speaks the truth without needing to say anything.

“What about me and Geoff?” Trevor’s voice wavers subtlely. 

“I saw a hickey on Geoff- and you two have been giving each other the same puppy-dog look, but it’s on steroids.” Like Jack, Ryan is also incredibly blunt. 

“Yeah,” Trevor slowly nods, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Yeah.”

He says it more confidently the second time. “Me and him are a… thing I guess.”

“Congrats, I know you two have been pining for a while.” Ryan nods, almost as if he’s approving of their relationship. But with the signature skull mask on, Trevor has no clue how Ryan actually feels about this. But in the meantime, he figures it’s positive because nothing else is said until their guy is dragged into the room and thrown onto the floor harshly.

 

Jeremy finds out one month into their relationship.

Currently, Trevor and Geoff aren’t really broadcasting their relationship. There are some moments though where the line of friends and romantic partners blur; like when they’re cuddling on the couch during game night, or Geoff curls an arm around Trevor’s waist if they’re out sitting in a booth in some bar drinking . The line blurs, but nobody asks. The crew just lives on with the fact that Trevor and Geoff have gotten even closer.

And Jeremy is completely unsuspecting of anything when he finds out that his boss is dating their newest hire.

He’s walking down the hall, exhausted after a long day. He intends on crashing in one of the bedrooms since his apartment is across town. But as he passes the bathroom, he hears the familiar voices of Geoff and Trevor.

“I can’t believe you didn’t come back earlier,” Geoff’s voice is slightly muffled through the door. Jeremy knows not to eavesdrop, but the worry that’s filling Geoff’s tone is unfamiliar. His boss rarely shows his worry and concern towards the crew; he only lets his deeper emotions slip into his words when he’s really upset.

“It was just a little burn- I get those all the time,” Trevor sighs. On the other side of the door, he’s treating a small acid burn on his arm.

“But it’s still a burn! Acid burns could seriously hurt you!” Geoff’s pitch raises.

“You know I get them all the time,” Trevor’s voice remains flat and almost emotionless. And Geoff pauses- not saying anything. In the hall, Jeremy is leaning against the door opposite of the bathroom.

“I’ll be fine,” Trevor’s voice is so soft that Jeremy can barely hear him.

“I know you’ll be fine!” Geoff’s voice gets even higher. “But- But I  _ love  _ you and I don’t want you to get hurt!”

From the hall, Jeremy can tell that Geoff’s words had struck a chord in Trevor. The silence that falls between them is almost suffocating. Now Jeremy is confused, but his exhausted mind is starting to piece together the clues Ryan and Jack had picked up on weeks ago.

The closeness while hanging out, the looks they share, how Geoff will sometimes go home with Trevor, or Trevor will be seen walking out of Geoff’s room in the morning and to the bathroom in nothing but a pair of oversized sweats… The clues are piecing together just as Trevor speaks.

“You… You-.... You love me?” 

“Yeah.” Geoff exhales.

Jeremy doesn’t know that this is the first time those three words have been said. The words strike Trevor hard- because there’s some days that he remembers where his life has gotten him. He has to remember sometimes when he wakes in the middle of the night that he’s in a relationship with his boss, has lived in the same place for just a month shy of a year, and that he’s made himself a family. 

So to be told that he’s love strikes his heart hard. 

The tension is thick in the air, but it melts when Jeremy hears the muffled sound of fabric rustling and two pairs of lips parting softly.

“I love you too.” Trevor whispers.

Jeremy leaves a few seconds later, his mind reeling at the sudden news of their relationship. He slips in through the door he’s leaning against, and immediately flops onto the bed. He figures he’ll ask Trevor about it tomorrow, or maybe Geoff. But not now- he’s utterly exhausted and sleep is calling to him and dragging him in just as his head hits the pillow.

 

Gavin and Michael find out together. And they wish they could wipe that memory from their eyes.

They walk through the base, planning on stopping by Geoff’s office, which is just a floor below the penthouse. They need to discuss with Geoff the news that a few of their informants gave them on a new crew in the city. 

The two of them walk in without even knocking, and are met with a sight that they wish they hadn’t saw. Geoff pushed up against his desk, his slacks pushed down to the floor, and Trevor on his knees in front of him.

“Oh fuck!” Michael yells and whips around so he doesn’t have to see his boss’ fingers in Trevor’s hair, or Trevor practically choking around Geoff’s dick.

“Bloody hell!” Gavin screeches. 

The two reactions makes Trevor gag as Geoff jolts forward in a mix of surprise and shock. Gavin’s got a hand over his eyes, and Michael’s facing away- they don’t see Geoff scramble to pull up his pants or Trevor sit back with a dazed look in his eyes.

“What the hell-” Geoff’s voice cracks as he cries out. “Haven’t you heard of fucking  _ knocking _ ?”

“I didn’t think you’d be getting fucking  _ blown _ !” Michael yells back, and he puts a hand over his eyes as he turns around.

“Are you two bloody idiots decent?” Gavin whines he shifts his weight. 

Michael and Gavin don’t really seem to care that they’ve ruined whatever moment was going on, and also don’t seem to keen on leaving.

“Yeah,” Trevor’s voice is slightly scratchy as he shakily stands. 

Both Michael and Gavin uncover their eyes. It’s like they share a mind, because both jaws drop.

“ _ Trevor _ ?” Michael is extremely confused, all he had seen was somebody on their knees in front of Geoff before he turned around.

“What is going on?” Gavin’s face scrunches up for a second.

“Really?” Geoff laughs a little as he buckles his belt. “You two just now realized we’re dating?”

That makes Trevor laugh airily, and shift. He’s trying his best to conceal a slowly dying erection in his jeans. 

“Yeah!” Michael exclaims, throwing his hands up. “How long has this been going on?”

“A month? Maybe two?” Trevor shrugs a little. “I figured all of you knew by now… Like Jack had told you.”

Michael and Gavin certainly look surprised, basically gaping at Trevor and Geoff. Their utterly shocked look makes both Geoff and Trevor smile. The two lovers share a look and smile.

“I didn’t know we worked with such unobservant people…” Trevor jokes, running a hand through his hair to fix the mess Geoff had made.

“We do,” Geoff laughs a little. His eyes are full of warmth as he looks at Trevor, and it makes Michael and Gavin even more confused. They hadn’t noticed  _ this _ for weeks? They hadn’t noticed the dark looking love-bites high on Trevor’s neck, or Geoff’s lovestruck looks, or the jokes that were only funny to them? They hadn’t noticed that  _ at all _ ?

“I think we need to reevaluate our crew,” Trevor keeps the joke rolling, which makes Gavin scoff.

“We’re not  _ oblivious, _ ” he speaks incredulously.

“Sure- you keep telling yourself that buddy,” Geoff rolls his eyes, then he makes a shooing motion. “Now can you get out? You kind of ruined the moment.”

 

It’s almost comical how things start to change now that the whole crew knows of their relationship. Trevor spends nearly every night in the penthouse now. But not in a guest bedroom, but in the master bedroom with Geoff. It’s getting so frequent now that Jack has suggested that he just sell his apartment; which doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

And the guys start to make more jokes about it. After retelling the story of how Michael and Gavin found out, the guys made jokes every so often about it. Jeremy would cautiously knock on Geoff’s office door, and enter the room with a hand over his eyes. Jeremy would jokingly call Trevor ‘loverboy’, and Geoff, an array of things you shouldn’t call your boss.

(Jeremy had once called Geoff ‘Big Daddy’ in the middle of a heist… and that was a phrase he had to swear to never repeat.)

But all in all, things were going quite well. They still ruled over Los Santos with an iron grip, the crew was flourishing, and it felt like they were constantly on top of the world.

It was an added bonus that Trevor was now comfortable with the idea of staying. After years of moving every two or three months, isolating himself in all ways except work, whatever rubble was left from his walls inside himself were being cleared away. 

He now wanted to be where his family was, and he  _ definitely  _ wanted to be with Geoff.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I a) didn’t expect for this to be so damn long, and b) couldn’t figure out a better ending for this. So I really hoped you enjoyed, and how I split it up wasn’t to bothering/theater-nerdy. 
> 
> You totally know what do to. Check out my tumblr at [geoffs-8-greatest-mistakes](http://geoffs-8-greatest-mistakes.tumblr.com/) so you can talk to me and just send me stuff. I'm lonely, very lonely.. Talk to me. c: <3<3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey come talk to me at the trash-fest that is my [tumblr](http://geoffs-8-greatest-mistakes.tumblr.com/), and send me asks about rare-pairs or about how dumb I am because I decided to write this thing.


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